


Body Heat

by Arcanas



Category: Original Work, the arcana
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-07 23:56:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11069739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arcanas/pseuds/Arcanas
Summary: Helping hands aren't always helpful.





	Body Heat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WarieLym](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarieLym/gifts).



> Disclaimer: World state and characters belong to Nyx Hydra. The two leading men are originals to a friend of mine and belong exclusively to them.  
> \--  
> A gift. :)

“ _your hand_ __  
_touching mine._ __  
_this is how_ __  
_galaxies_ __  
_collide._ ”   
―  **Sanober Khan**

**\----**

“Good morning, Uriah. Sleep well?”

“Fine. Thank you for checking on me.”

The stout woman, robust in every last aspect of her spirit and physical form, offered him a fatigue-heavy smile. 

“Perhaps we should have some tea?”

Portia nodded blearily, scuffling towards the servants' kitchen. The male followed quietly at her heels, content to enjoy the structure of the palace they called home. His relocation had been more recent than the others, but it had taken little to no time at all for them to welcome him as one of their fold. And seeing as his ties with family were strong, he felt little hesitation in accepting their familial habitat. It would fill the void of a home rich with laughter and love until he could return again to see his siblings.

A few of the other servants and those contracted with the Countess were taking up brief respite inside the confines of the kitchen. The air danced heavy with the aroma of coffees and teas, many sides taken upon which was the better fluid to enjoy.

He bowed his head, fingers reaching for the tea kettle with practice and instinct.

Portia turned to him, “You wanna make me a cup o' that cinnamon tea of yours today, Uriah?”

Tilting his head backwards, he gave her a small smile, “Sure.”

–

“You seem a little more tired than usual,” The small redhead murmured as they made to their destinations for the day. She would go to the Countess' side and he would find his station among the plant life.

“Ah, it's just the Countess has a new breed of acid trap that's arrived within this last week. They're proving to be quite difficult. I've been staying up late to jot down any notes or queries I may have.”

“The library is always open. Should you need it, only ask. You know I'll help you.”

The man nodded, his face clear and easy.

How quickly things change.

A thundering crash echoed, reverberating through the halls. The guardsmen all turned at the alarming notion, their feet remained rooted once they were under the impression that a mere accident had occurred and not an actual intrusion.

“Uhhhhh, didn't that come from the greenhouse?”

Gritting his teeth as worry stole over him, Uriah made as quickly as his legs and feet could carry him.

\--

“Ah, damn.”

Rounding the corner into the room with so much velocity that he more flung himself inside than entered, Uriah found the culprit.

“ _You_!”

Lazily lulling his head backwards, a lop-sided smile fell over the man's features, “Oh. Hey there. Mornin'.”

The caretaker rushed towards him, eyes surveying the damages quickly. “Just what do you think you're doing?!”

Thick hair ensconced the other man's face, his lackadaisical attitude grinding on Uriah's patience just a little too much. “Playing caretaker?”

“How many times have I told you to leave the plants alone? I'm entrusted to care for them. Me. I know what I'm doing, Gaizka.”

Magic scented the air as the assaulted individual lifted to his feet, “Yeah, Yeah. I know.”

That admission did little to sway the verbal lashing he was to receive. Not only had he gone and touched one of his precious plants, but he'd made an absolute mess of the room. Contaminated soil, broken pottery, wet tiles; he was sure to get it now.

A sudden hiss of air and a suck of Uriah's teeth drew Gaizka's attention once more, “What's wrong?”

Farmer's son sighed, discarding his glove quickly, “The plant spouted acid in its anxiousness. It only burnt through my glove, thankfully. I'll need to go retrieve a new pair before I clean up this calamity of a mess.”

Gaizka snorted, eyes on the other man's naked hands, “Exaggerate much?”

Uriah stood wordlessly, brushing his knees and clothing of any and all excrement.

“Sorry about this.”

“Pardon me?”

Before the horticulturist could properly register just what the apology applied to, a sea of locks came into his field of view. Warmth spread over his cheeks and skin as he watched Gaizka pluck his own gloves from his hands. Gently, with purpose, he slid them onto Uriah's palms and digits; pressing between each and every finger to secure the fabric into place.

His cheeks and ears burned summer-hot as he gazed at Gaizka. Long hair, longer lashes, fine bone structure, unique paints placed upon his skin, lazy lips, strong jaw...Uriah felt his heart thumping away sweetly inside his chest, humming its approval.

Lashes lifted as the magician made to look up into Uriah's stare, “There. All better now. Forgive me?”

An awestruck silence was the only reply to be found. The gloves were a bit too-large, but they felt nice and still lingered with the prior man's body heat.

“Now you won't have to trudge clear across the palace just to get a new set. You're good to go, farmer boy.”

“T-thank you.”

“That's my cue. Farewell!”

Sobriety reclaimed the room as Uriah sputtered, disbelief prominent, “Hang on just a moment! You made this mess! Surely you don't intend to leave me with the remains?”

A grin and bow of farewell was the only reply offered as booted footfalls and long, long hair disappeared from view. All that remained to prove of the exchange's existence was the messy room, footprints in the dirt...and body heat.

 


End file.
